Continuation

@yowwa

I'd heard the stories and decided it was time to take a look into it.

I threw a bag into the trunk and gassed the old Deuce out along the highway towards Kensall, it was getting dark when I finally arrived so I checked into the towns only motel and cracked a bottle of Jim Beam, determined to get a good nights sleep.

* * *

@Ema31

I couldn't sleep. Tossing and turning as i hear the loud thunder roar from the thin walls of this motel room i'm staying.

Feeling cold and shallow I stood up and looked outside from my window, as the street lights flickered I thought I saw a shadow --- over at the end of the street, giving me that eerie feeling of being watched...

* * *

@Michael Hall

Later I awoke to a soft scratching sound at my door. I sat up in bed, my eyes immediately fixing upon the front door where the gentle scratching was coming from. It was at this moment that I realized that the door was not locked.

With terror filling me, I jumped out of bed, sprinted across the room, and slammed the bolt into place. Immediately feeling better; especially since the scratching sound had left.

So I stood there for a moment, my back to the door and my heart slowing down -- or at least starting to -- but then it started again, but I realized with utter horror that -- somehow, some impossible way -- it was coming from the closet door, not twenty feet away...

******

@lsu11

My gut told me to get the hell out of here as fast as I could. I have seen enough scary movies to know how this would end. An out-of-towner in an old out dated motel in the middle of nowhere with a couple of inbred yokels to check you in. Yeah - I ain't dying tonight.

I quickly grab my jeans from the chair. Disregarding the rest of my bag which sat precariously close to the closet. The scratching noise growing ever louder. There was nothing in that bag that was worth my life. Shit. Except of course, my keys. Which were in my coat. Which was in the closet. God damn it. I wasn't getting out of here alive......